


Bitter & Sweet

by inanis_mortem



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Coffee, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanis_mortem/pseuds/inanis_mortem
Summary: Written for @Shimotsukiis on Twitter for the Secret Santa exchange!





	Bitter & Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @Shimotsukiis on Twitter for the Secret Santa exchange!

Percival likes his coffee  _ black _ . Dark roast, tongue searing hot and  _ black _ . 

Djeeta’s tried to get him to add something, cream, sugar, honey,  _ anything _ but he always wrinkles his nose and pushes the cup away. Nothing works to get him to try it, he’s always smart enough to check his to go cups whenever Djeeta hands it to him, eyebrows having a disapproving conversation with her as he gives it back to her and makes a fresh cup.

One day, Djeeta glares and glares, a ‘ _ Don’t be a picky brat _ ’ on the tip of her tongue and he drinks it begrudgingly, sticking out his tongue in between sips. She returns them of course, especially when he pushes his own cup across the table, raising an eyebrow when she stares at it with disdain.

“Don’t be a picky brat,” he teases lowly and Djeeta’s glare intensifies, “you make me taste your horrific creations, you should at least try something good while I suffer.” Djeeta grudgingly admits she can’t argue with him, she’s making him try her way, she should at least return the favour. 

The cup nearly burns her hand when she picks it up and if Percival’s going to drink black coffee, maybe he should use a thicker ceramic one than the thin, glass one he’s currently using. It’s pretty of course, Percival won’t buy them anything that’s not aesthetically up to his standards but it’s. A bad choice for hot coffee. Djeeta thinks about getting an oven mitt and then decides against it, the nine steps to the drawer isn’t worth it.

Djeeta takes a sip without blowing on it first, a mistake that brings tears to her eyes. She almost spits it back out but manages to swallows, scalding her tongue and throat in the process and wonders if Percival’s taste might be weirdly affected if he drinks this everyday. Percival looks mildly concerned until she levels another glare at him and he goes back to delicately sipping his own cup. 

Djeeta doesn’t trust her tongue to work with her properly so instead of speaking, she pushes Percival’s original mug back across the table and holds out her hand, expecting her own back. There’s a smirk and Percival leans out of reach, still taking miniscule sips. “Hm, I don’t know, I quite like it,” he teases even though it’s obvious he’s lying through his teeth and the sweetness is killing him. 

“Percy,” Djeeta grumbles and the look Percival throws her for using Vane’s nickname for him is deadly enough to kill a dragon but Djeeta, now fully immune just smiles back sweetly. “I want my ‘horrific creation’ back  _ please _ .” Percival’s sips pause when her tone turns slightly sweet on the last word and he squints at her, most likely trying to gauge whether that tone is one that threatens murder if she doesn’t get her coffee back.

It must be threatening enough because he does poke it back across the table and Djeeta snatches it back up while Percival retrieves his own and takes a long draught from it, sighing contentedly. Djeeta feigns gagging and Percival returns the gesture when Djeeta takes a gulp from her own cup. An exchange of dirty looks occur across the table as breakfast is finished in silence, interrupted by the Percival’s occasional snicker when Djeeta’s leg don’t quite reach far enough under the table to jab him in the knee despite her best efforts.

It ends in laughter when Percival’s knee hits the table as he jerks away from Djeeta’s ninth or tenth attempt to clip his knee, coffee spilling on the table and there’s a desperate mad scramble to save Percival’s shirt from coffee stains. There’s some slipping and sliding and hips banging into the table as they try to navigate a slippery floor, Percival nearly yanking Djeeta’s arm out of the socket when he ungracefully catches her after her feet lose purchase on the coffee covered tiles.

There’s a whole lot of shouting and panic before Djeeta and Percival both realize his shirt is a lost cause and they drop to their knees instead, Djeeta tossing paper towels at Percival. Only after they wipe up the coffee does Djeeta realize the coffee is still hot and she faces Percival who’s still patting away at his shirt with paper towels. Lifting his shirt, she finds reddened skin.

“Does it hurt?” Djeeta asks anxiously as she presses a cold cloth against Percival’s scalded skin, not missing the way his face pinches into a wince before he returns it to his usual, smug, nonchalant half grin. “ _ Percival _ .” 

“It does, just a bit,” Percival hums, hissing when Djeeta presses a little too hard. “But a kiss would make me feel better,” he jokes and Djeeta rolls her eyes hard enough that he can  _ hear _ it.

The cloth’s flung in his face and Djeeta brushes off her clothing, sticking her tongue again. 

“Since you’re well enough to flirt, you don’t need me nursing you and you can take care of yourself. Burn ointment is in the cupboard.” She winks at him before sauntering off and Percival groans. 

“Please?”

“Nurse yourself! You’re a big boy now!”

“Djeeta-”

“Nope!”

“Dear,” Percival grits out with difficulty as if the pet name brings him pain. “Darling-” Djeeta swears he’s on the verge of choking on the sweetness pouring out of his mouth, “-I’m sorry.” Djeeta pauses and spins on her heel, raising an eyebrow. “Can I please have a kiss?”

Djeeta pretends to consider, snickering when Percival puts on a hurt expression.

“Only if you wear the cat ears Vane got you for Halloween. And let me take a picture.”

“... What?”

“You heard me.”

“God, I’d rather die.” Percival doesn’t sound like he’s exaggerating at all and the dead look in his eyes as he presumably debates it makes Djeeta snicker again. “You’re terrible for even suggesting it.

“I know but you’d look  _ cute- _ ”

“I’m forfeiting the kiss!”

“Percy  _ please- _ ”

They never really do sort out that kiss.


End file.
